Can't Stand Your Loneliness
by My Grey Heart
Summary: Before we became a band, or even before you crashed your car into the store, I hated you. Immensely. I had a pretty normal and dull life and you took it all away from me. I swear I hate you down to your sickening, heartless core. But, not for the reasons you may think. Surprising, isn't it? (Based around the song 'Slow Country' by Gorillaz.)
1. City Life

The muffled sounds of city life scratched at the walls from the outside teasingly. The slow beats of the tune currently playing came faintly from the speakers above. To be quite honest, it was rather depressing. Not a single person had come into the shop all day. Crossed legs were numb from sitting for ridiculously periods of time atop a single stool pulling up to the register with hopes of at least one customer. Stuart was tired and even though he had nothing really in his schedule for the evening he was ready to call it a day here and head on home. The mere thought of that was bliss but reality was a bitch.

After several months of working here the same attitude of lazing around never ceased. The casual chats with regulars coming and going, applying postage to letters and other small assortments of things to ship, and performing an everyday facsimile transmissions was nothing more than a usual day. But, however, today seemed to be dullest. The minutes barely getting by.  
A small sigh escaped the man retrieving the bottled water next to him to take a small swig before capping the recycled bottle and settling back in it's spot next to the register on the small scale. A woman's voice screeched over the radio in an over dramatized commercial making the chronically increasing headache the cashier had throb uncomfortably a large hand ruffling into his azure locks and pressing against his ear and temple to keep it silent till the annoyance was gone. Honestly, that was not the way to win someones attention, especially in the business world. Even he knew. Sadly, professionalism was starting to reduce in high numbers and really, it was a shame. People now a days needed and lived only for their own selfish needs. Some going so far as to practically live off of the government. Truth be told though you could never really get away from the 'Government'.

Another painful throb pained underneath thick brows. '_Great.._' Stuart whined internally, reaching down to his jean pockets, pulling out a small cylinder like bottle, tinier than most prescription bottles, popping of the lid and downing the contents that were left in the container tossing it into the trash canister without a care. He gulped hard feeling the capsules glide down his sore throat. Good. Now that was be taken care of and no more throbbing would happen for the next few hours. A smile graced his features at the pleasant thought and best of all, no one saw him.

Come to think of it, most people, if they'd seem him downing a pill or two like that would assume the worst, stare at with eyes big as saucers wondering why he would o'd on the clock, or, at all even. But, since not a bloody soul was freaking here it wasn't going to be a troublesome problem with only three left in the bottle so, no harm done.

A small tingle came from the door bringing Stuart from his meaningless daze. His chin rested in his palm not making a single motion rather sitting contently but over all pleased to see someone finally come in. The older looking shady man who waltzed in had a heavy step, shoulders slumped in a protective posture underneath a black v-necked sweater sleeved or not, over it a gray zip up hoodie with his hands now shoved in his pockets his attentions going to the closest self of miscellaneous things by the entrance. His black jeans held tightly around his legs meeting with Cuban heeled boots in a shade that matched his trousers and hair. The disheveled mess atop his cranium was greasy, this fringe hanging in his eyes concealing all other possible emotions. Not exactly blessed with height the man made up for it in body language and fashion, seeming far more threatening than the occasional thug.

"'Hello Sir! Anything I can help you with today?" The young man chirped attempting to sound cheerful with a smile on his face.

The stranger turned, giving the younger boy at the register a death glare the corner of his lip rising in annoyance revealing sharpened canines.

"Sod off..." A gruff threat erupted from the other.

Blue eyes widened in disbelief. "Excuse me?" Stuart sat up, standing and pushing out his chest slightly to show his displeasure at the insult, all friendliness gone.

The little defiant action made the older man raise a brow in amusement not giving a single care of the oddly looking mans feelings.

"What a face-ache.." The man laugh smugly making the other flush in embarrassment.

How dare him. "And what the hell is wrong with the way I look?" Stuarts' tone cracked making him sound like a prepubescent teen.

Another sinister chuckle came, less enthusiastic, "You have blue hair for Christ's sake..."

Small fists clenched tightly. Oh, _that was it_.


	2. Calling Me all the Time

Murdoc knew he could be somewhat of a prick and over dramatize on a lot of things but the boy was an eye sore. Eyes a brilliant shade of blue that equaled to the tone of his hair but that seemed to be the only attractive feature on the young male. Not that it really mattered. Lanky limbs and a scrawny arse. His over all appearance resembling a stick figure. Simply dressed in jeans, high-top Converses', and a black work tee.

Nothing special. But.. amusing?

Hearing the commotion the azure haired teens boss appeared out of thin air from behind a wall of envelopes giving the troublesome customer an unappreciative glance before, in the most polite fashion, asking the man to leave. The stout man shivered in slight intimidation at the sight of the aggressive man then looking to Stuart, hoping the other wouldn't try anything to fend off the other for mocking or annoying him in some fashion. The teen was known for flying off the handle at inopportune times.

Murdoc just watching with a smug smirk. '_That's right.. submit pretty boy.._'

Knowing his place, though against his will, Stuart let out an agitated sigh, slinking into the stool he'd been keeping warm with folded arms and a puffed out bottom lip his eyes roaming the floor for a possible distraction. The grungy man rolled his eyes from the shooing motion of the shorter man, getting a small form of enjoyment from tormenting the cashier here. He figured the little freak deserved it. But, for his own sake in not getting arrested again, he supposed he would end make his leave.

'_I'm a normal nineteen year old.. What's so wrong with me.. and how I look?_' Stuart scrunched his nose in the swarming heap of growing annoyances, a hint of self conscience hindering, watching the rude bloke in a silent rage. A slight shrug could be seen before the man with onyx locks made his leave no longer hesitant but biting back the urge from running back in, grabbing the little shit by the collar and pummeling his face with gritty knuckles and whatever else Murdoc could use as a weapon against his foe. A small chime that once welcomed him sounded again the door closing. Shivering slightly from the abusive chill he looked around not seeing any of his chums around to further there delinquency. Maybe that was both a good and bad thing. Before hand he'd hoped to just come into little shops here and there for the fuck of it but he certainly didn't anticipate meeting that little sod. No, Murdoc would toy around just for shit's and grin's but until then the closest bar would tend to his newly forming case of boredom.

Stuart growled watching out the front windows his upper lip curling in a defiant sneer unfolding his arms some. The smaller man with a glum expression next to him glanced around the store before pressing a defeated hand to the nearest wall for support. He really would be at a loss if his employee tried anything but thank god, he didn't. He had enough for one day.

"You can go ahead and start cleaning up Stuart.."

After some brief sweeping and cleaning what little mess there was in the floor, indoor window cleaning, and locking all the doors up tight he smiled happy to finally being off work and said farewell to his boss. Leaving the small store he inhaled deeply enjoying cool scent of the outdoors and light aromas of city life. Walking along the road he pulled a pack of fags retrieving one and lighting it to satisfy him on his walk home. His lungs craved the smoke, this new addiction of making the world he lived in seem a little nicer. In some sort of mental way he suppose. Pushing past the strong gust of wind that swept through the narrow street Stuart muttered cursing the weather before looking up and the bar down the road a few streets away from his flat.

'_Eh.. Maybe a drink wouldn't be so bad._' He grinned a full set of pearly whites holding the cigarette between his canines. He'd just started living on his own after being dispatched by his mum for his new habit but over all both of his parents attitudes about his leave were surprisingly surpassing neutral. He figured he'd be stuck home all his life but some grace of God he made it out alive. Now, he could come and go as he pleased which would come in handy in more ways than one eventually.

By the time he reached his desired location he finished off his fag flicking it away carelessly before pushing open the thick door to a vast and dimly lit room full of more shady looking characters like the one he'd encounter earlier. The memory of the grotesque man brought the flooding rage from earlier and he wrinkled his nose trying to forget all about the bastard. He wouldn't see him again anyway, highly likely anyway.

Who the hell came into the store for no apparent reason, acting like a complete dick and then leaves feeling smug for annoying everyone there? Honestly, even if it was just him and his boss there was no reason to act like an ass. Quickly walking toward the bar he sat up top the high bar-stool, resting his elbows on the hard plastic that covered the bar counter his chin settled in his palms, thoughts still in a defensive state. '_I swear if I ever see him again.._'

The bartender approached him smiling wide. She looked to be middle aged but had a nice rack in her black v-neck blouse and blonde haired tied in a bun. Over all she looked nice but the one thing that killed her over all appeal was the thick layer of makeup that masked her natural beauty. All of that foundation and mascara really was unnecessary. That's one thing that always puzzled him about females, they always caked that mess on themselves, convinced it made them look better. That was another thing that bothered his mum, still not having a girl by his side. But really, out of the majority of them it was hard finding someone natural and... normal? Overall, he'd get horny from time to time and screw around but commitment was not on his 'to-do' list. Unfortunately. Besides, he played for both teams. Not that his mum needed to know that.

"What would you like luv?" She smoothly said her hungry eyes roaming over his youth. Dragged from his thoughts he smirked, '_What a cougar.._' Stuart snorted at his internal observations and spoke trying to sound as smoothly as the other had, "Oh just a bottle of Stella.." He gave a dashing smile earning a giggle from the over aged woman.

"Once sec then." She winked, turning and doing a small strut before disappearing behind the wall of alcoholic assortments. A wolf whistle came from a bloke at the end of the bar watching her retreat. There as something else that made him annoyed, pigs. He knew he was possibly considered a 'pig' too, just for the sole fact of his genitalia, but truth be told, he hated ass slapping pricks too.

Blue eyes narrowed and he sighed. Really, he was suppose to be here having a good time and the only thing that was clouding his judgement was.. judgement. Just that. Spinning his seat around he faked a smile the action disappearing as soon as it'd formed, his azure eyes widening auto-locked to dark ones.

"Ahh.. face-ache.." The overly enthusiastic demonic voice lacing the English vocabulary with a mix of lust and homicide. It was odd, unbearable and desirable. But over all, fear entered every pore of the teen at seeing the man he'd just swore a fist to standing in front of him two inches away from his face.

Only one thought came to mind, _'Don't panic._'


	3. Me and My Soul, Geared to Attack

_Sorry for the short chapter! Hope it doesn't suck too bad. _

* * *

The stale stench of alcohol was quite an unpleasant thing to inhaled from sheer terror. Stuart was just glad he could gain a breathe before the sudden chill ran around his nervous system like an obstacle course diving down into every part of him that he'd never experienced before. Electrifying. The adrenaline dilating his eyes from what to expect from the imposer but his infuriating emotions got the best of him. Damn, and he hadn't even gotten his beer yet. But this was certainly more important.

"You.." He growled viciously before connecting a semi clenched fist to the oddly colored mans' jaw over-stretching his own arm in the process. Fights were something he never really dive bombed into and no he was starting to regret that he'd never actually had a true fist fight in a bar. Eh, there was a first time for everything. Sucking in his bottom lip cold eyes rolled around to his gaze once more. The dark haired man didn't even flinch from the contact aside from the slight head turn. He must have been use to this, brawls and such.

Stuart had the feeling that maybe he should have kept his knuckles to himself. They throbbed from the rough impact his other hand nursing the sore spot. Petrifying didn't even describe the look the dark haired man gave the bluenette.

"Your mine you little shit." The whispered words came sharp and deep like the razor blade he visited every once in a while when things really did seem pointless, even if it had been years since. Nothing permanent remained from those times but the meaning of it all sunk deeper than any therapy After the little exchange of words Stuart could have sworn he had put his forearms up to keep from receiving less damage to be inflicted to his features but that seemed the sole aim for the grungy man. He felt his azure lock being pulled before feeling the vibrations of each fist that forced into his body echo through him to the counter top he'd been pressed to in random places along his torso. A few kicks were delivered to his now bruised ankles, his legs buckling underneath him, the pain starting to numb away. He moaned internally holding his stomach with a free arm steadying himself trying to earn back his breathe his free hand draped over the counter and next to him holding him up, his vision now only a blur. Great, he could his left eyes starting to swell, tears rushing to cascade onto the wooden floor.

All sounds were as muffled as his vision everything slightly tilting to the side and all he could really make out was the slamming of tables, crashing of glass as the small partials littered the floor and screaming of all ranges, men and female alike. He needed to lay down and think over his evening. Really, he was such a nob head sometimes.

'_Right, This is why I don't get into fights..._' Was the last thought that crossed his broken mind before it slipped into another world his limp body thudding against the floor.

"What da fuck do ya think yer doing?" A slap met with Murdoc's smug stained face from the same woman Stuart had been ordering from before the whole fiasco. A few bouncers came to the younger man's aid pulling off the Satanist before holding him back whilst the blonde watched the teen sink to the floor. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park to hold the insane bloke back but the two men managed earning a defeated and quite sarcastic forfeit from the tired man having spent all of his energy beating the ever living hell out of the punk.

Murdoc didn't respond only looking down at his boots before back up at the woman, "Havin' fun luv.." He said casually as though everything had been oh-so-dandy. Almost everyone except a few stragglers had stayed for the show hiding safely behind turned over tables to watch the maniac.

Her overly done eyes narrowed dangerously at him before giving the men holding him a nod to through him out.

Being dragged back was one thing but to go and through the little shit out with him? That was just low, even for that bitch.

"Don't eva come back!" She shrill voice warned before her and the two men, who had so kindly escorted Murdoc from the wrecked bar out into the now dark alleyway, headed back inside closing the thick door behind them and locking it.  
Back door exits were never fun. Especially when you have an unconscious boy laying on you.

'_Bloody fuckin' hell.._' His thoughts growing more and more unstable the longer he looked at this 'boy'.

Why the fuck did he do this? Why did he insist on living this way? He was never happy. He promised himself that happiness was only through money, alcohol, and power. Now, Murdoc was starting to regret wanting to stay around for S's and G's to get back at the young man, getting smashed on his wait to 'coincidentally run into' the other when low and behold, watching the overly confident sod waltz in and sit on that stool like he was a damn king.

He really knew nothing about this little freak. And now he was stuck with him.

_Well_, until he woke up that is.


	4. Never Get a real Chance So What You Doin

Pulling his hands free from the mess of azure locks he'd bee so fascinated with Murdoc exhaled. '_Wow, it really was real. This little shit truly was.. special._'

The ground was slick as snot from the previous rain earlier which brought a bitter chill to the air, almost unbearable to stand in without a coat. Cold, Like that bloody beer he'd been sipping on for the past hour before this shit had happened. Really, what was he thinking? He was a grown man and yet he was doing dumb shit like this. Escalating the minuscule things into fights for his own personal enjoyment, getting smashed publicly, Insulting others that dared pose a threat to him or, in this case, was a victim begging to be pummeled It was just sheer luck really to never care for any one else than himself and now being stuck with this boy on top of it. But he deserved it, right? The nearby puddles soaked into his jeans and cuffs of his jacket, a unpleasant smell mixing with his un-showered figure and clothing. What a shitty life style he'd been rolling around in.

Now, he had managed to scoot inch by inch his disoriented way up against a brick wall of the building next door in the darkness with this strange, unconscious boy who just so happened to not only have this natural circus-freak hair but, the unfortunate fact that he was bruised head to toe by yours truly. Murdoc frowned some looking down at the young man, slightly fascinated as he slept in the older man's lap a rough thumb grazing over the purple toned muscle under his soft skin. Whoever this prick was, Murdoc hadn't the slightest clue. But, strangely enough, even though the two had nothing but squabbles in the last few hours the fact still remained, even if against his will, the little sod was giving him the most comfort he'd ever felt in so, so long. The feelings after shagging a few birds was only a fraction compared to how he felt now. Honestly, what was it about this little shit.. it only pissed him off the more he sat here. Intrigued.

A small grimace formed on the younger man's sagged features already twisting in pain, moaning lightly, most likely from pain. Guilt had never really infiltrated the Satanists soul before but, oh gee, now it had to handcuff him by the heart and throw away the key seeing the boy shiver. Probably from the bitter cold as well.

'I need to get him home.. ' The greasy haired man mentally concluded looking down at the mobile he'd retrieved from his pocket only to shove it into a new pocket in the back of his trousers, removing his own jacket and slowly but surely putting it onto the other male, careful not to cause anymore damage or to possibly wake the bluenette. Stumbling then finally regaining himself he stood pulling out a carton of Lambert and Butler, retrieving a single and lighting it before hoisting the blue haired rag doll over one shoulder his free hand toking away in need of the nicotine fixation his lungs craved. Now, he figured, since he had no idea where this bloke lived that it'd be best just to take bitch boy to his own flat. But only for tonight then the little shit needed to get the hell out and never, ever come into his life again. Ever. Never again.

* * *

When Stuart came to he was lying face down in the rough fabric of brindle colored carpet. His face hurt so bad and this wasn't helping at all. Glancing up it took him a few moments to fully realize that he wasn't in his flat and fear dominated any other worries and thoughts. Pulling himself up to his knees he slummed back down slowly onto his feet having a better look at the mysterious, and quite filthy, semi empty room. Over flowing ash trays, bottled alcoholic drinks, both opened and sealed, covered the majority of the space aside from stacks of papers and guitars along with an abundance of random items.

Slowly standing to his feet he rubbed at the sore spot behind his neck letting out a slight groan deciding if anything to find the exit to this little place. Looking down his sour face only grew, his work shirt stained with dirt and torn to hell and back. God he feared his own appearance now. Maybe it would be best to find a bathroom first to at least repair damage. He couldn't feel any possibly injuries but that didn't mean they couldn't be there. He made a double take of the room surrounding him once more before finding the only door to his escape. Treading lightly down the hall, fearing who could possibly be around the corner. After last night though Stuart was thankful that he was away from '_that prick_'. The thought of the man no longer angered him but it still left a disgusting taste on his tongue. Maybe, by some grace of God, it was the bartender or at least someone of normal sanity.

Turning the corner sharply at first he couldn't tell if his breathe hitched in courage or cowardliness but now he was certain his breathe was suppressed in shock. This bastard he'd actually taken him home? With him?

All sorts of questionable things warily feathered over the many conclusions he came to internally while deducting the whole situation realistically. And rationally. But in every which-a-way this fucker bringing him to his own flat just flew all over him.

"Good, you are alive. Now get the fuck out." The Satanist calmly stated his bored tone matching his features as he scanned the newspaper in his hands not bothering to look away at the young man. His feet propped up on to what seemed to be the kitchen table which was also covered in the same debris as the bedroom. '_This is such a small kitchen. It could look real cute with some cleanin' up and decor.._ ', his pleasant thoughts interrupted by a abrupt screech against the tile from the chair the older man had been sitting in.

"Get the fuck out of 'ere... " Murdoc growled dangerously inches away from the latter, the feelings from before from his walk home starting to swell. He inhaled sharply showing his impatience a grimace adding to his displeased body language, internally moaning from the sweet scent of the other.

This boy needed to leave. Now.


End file.
